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// Prologue: The Tale of a Steam Engine 
// Story: Hero of Harmony 
// by Riddleja 
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Many years ago, before Celestia became principle of Canterlot High School, there was a small railway. It ran not too far away from the school, and had many steam engines working there. One of these was a tank engine named Gladstone.
Most people seemed to see Gladstone as just another steam engine. But there was one person who saw her as something more than that. And that was her driver; Porter Coupling. 

You see, Porter had helped to build the little engine when he was much younger, and because of that, Gladstone was considered as, not just a simple tank engine, but one of the family. And when he had been chosen to be her driver, he was tickled to death. Porter took such good care of Gladstone, that she never got old.

Unfortunately, times had begun to change. One by one, the steam engines had been withdrawn and replaced by diesels because they were much stronger and more efficient. Poor Gladstone had been condemned for scrap like the rest of them. But just as the workmen started to dismantle her, a voice cried out.

“No! You won't take Gladstone from me!”

Porter Coupling, now much older, had come back to save his little engine. After a hard bargain with the manager of the railway, he had managed to buy Gladstone, allowing him to decide what happened to her. And although railway officials had withdrawn older designs, old Porter Coupling fought the board every step of the way to ensure Gladstone was kept running.

"That little engine is like family to me," he would say. "And I won't let anybody hurt her."

Even as the elderly driver was well into his sixties, his word was law. Sometimes, his family would come up from the big cities for a visit. They loved seeing Porter and his little steam engine. Especially his Grandson. Sometimes, he would take the family for a ride on one of the coaches, and let the grandson ride with him in the cab. He would even allow him to blow the whistle.

"You think I could drive Gladstone someday, Grandpa Porter?" the boy would ask.

"Oh, I'm sure of it," Porter smiled, fondly tousling his grandson's hair. "Perhaps one day when you're old enough, you'll even own her."

"Oh wow!" cried the boy. "My own steam engine? That would be amazing, grandpa. You promise that might happen someday?"

“I promise,” said Porter. “But you have to remember that handling your own steam engine is a lot of responsibility. If you take good care of Gladstone, she'll be around for a much longer time.”

“I will, Grandpa,” said the boy.

Porter smiled. His grandson reminded him mostly of himself when he was little. So full of imagination and energy. He had a good feeling that one day, he would have the honor of driving Gladstone.

Sadly though, that was a promise that would be hard to keep. The workshops had run out of parts to keep Gladstone running properly, and she had started to break down. Porter couldn't afford to have more parts brought to fix her, and was afraid that he couldn't keep the railway board from scrapping her this time. So he had decided to hide her away until he could afford repairs for her.

“I'm sorry, old girl,” he said to Gladstone one night. “I can't fix you right now. But don't worry. I promise that you'll be fixed up and riding the rails again someday.” With that, he drove her out to find her a hiding spot, and came back on a handcart hours later. He never told anyone, not even the railway board, where he had hidden Gladstone. He knew that now since she couldn't be kept running properly, someone would try to scrap her. And as he would also say, “No steam engine deserves to be scrapped.”



Unfortunately, Porter had passed away one day from old age; it was a tragic day for his family, friends, and railway crewmen and women alike. He had been one of the best drivers they had ever known with a heart as big as a building. A few years after Porter's death, his son Tinker Fix-it was talking to his wife. They had moved into a house that was rather close to where Porter had once lived and taken care of Gladstone.They wished he would have told them where the engine was, but it was a secret he had taken to the grave. 

Their son had enrolled into Canterlot High as well, following an incident where a troublemaking trio called the Dazzlings had turned a Musical Showcase into a Battle of the Bands in order to take over the world, only to be stopped by a band known as the Rainbooms with a little help from a redeemed Sunset Shimmer. Tinker and his wife were concered for their son's safety at that school because of that, but he convinced them he would be alright.  Next to them on the bed was a rather old box. On top was written “To my Grandson”.

"Do you think our son is ready for this yet?" his wife asked.

"I think so," Tinker replied. “Dad told us not to have him open this box until he was ready. He's probably old enough to handle the responsibilities.”

“If only Porter hadn't kept his engine's hiding spot such a secret to us before he died,” said his wife. “Then we'd be fixing her by now and...”

“And if he had told us, someone would come along and try to scrap her,” reminded Tinker. “Dad really cared about that engine. It was like family to him.”

“It just didn't seem right that he wouldn't tell his own family where she is.”

“He wanted to make extra sure Gladstone was safe,” Tinker said. “And he didn't want to take any chances of telling us in case someone happened to overhear or we ended up telling someone in excitement. Dad would have done the same for us if we were in danger.”

They wrapped the box in wrapping paper, put a label on this corner, and Tinker took it to the mailbox, just as the mailman was coming.

"Take this package to Canterlot High School," said Tinker. "Make sure my son receives it."

"Don't worry, Tinker," said the Mailman. "I'm just finishing my routes and I've got some spare time. I'll make sure he gets it."

With that, the mailman drove off towards the school. Tinker watched until he had left.

"Good luck, son," he said to himself. "And Happy Birthday."